Feeling Good - The Story of Sam & Henry

Chapter 3 - I am waiting for Vinzini

Texts from Jen to Sam...

Hey! Any chance you're free this Monday? I'm going to this shindig downtown and apparently there are still seats available and my Residency Director said that I could bring a friend.

I assume Andy is busy?

Yeah, he's got a work thing. But I do miss seeing you and I thought you told me that you sometimes had Mondays off.

Happy to be your fall back pussy.
Hmmm, lemme check...
Looks like I'm actually going to be catering some party downtown. Where's your thing at, maybe we could meet up for drinks after?

Dunno, I'll look
It's at Soundwell, not sure where that is...

Hahahahahaha.
Are you kidding me?

Uh, no?

The event I'm catering is at Soundwell, so I guess I'll see you Monday?

Sweet! I love your cooking. Can I come and see you at work in the kitchen?

Only if you promise not to touch anything. Or taste anything. Or put your hands pretty much anywhere.
On second thought, no, you'd better not... you're pretty fucking handsy, if memory serves.

What can I say... I solemnly swear I am up to no good?
~~
I don't know why I had agreed to this gig. Monday was my only day off and I still had some moving-in shit I needed to take care of. The money was nice, but I really didn't need it. My rent was low and I had long since paid off my motorcycle... I kinda just liked the idea of putting my nose to the grindstone.

The kitchen was the only place where I felt like I had my shit together. Aside from the recent  one-night stand with Blue Eyes, my personal life was non-existent. I enjoyed running and kick boxing, but neither of those gave me the kind of high that I got at the end of a busy day in the restaurant. I'd done a lot of drugs growing up, trying to escape my life, but honestly, nothing compares to the high you get working a busy shift at a high-end restaurant. It's an interesting mix of intense stress, physical pain and artistry or craftsmanship.

I know that sounds crazy, but it's true.

When I first started working in kitchens I would party with the staff, but when I got serious about pursuing a career as a chef I had to let that life go. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoyed drinking and smoking pot occasionally, but my heart wasn't into the hard stuff anymore.

The job I was doing tonight was pretty straight forward. We'd prepared most of the food earlier this morning and only needed to make some of the vegetables onsite and then reheat the rest. Besides, I had my two favorite cooks with me, Miguel and Diego. They were both older than me by about ten years and had been working in the restaurant industry since they were teenagers.

Some guys in kitchens got really fucking weird working for a woman, some handled it by being passive aggressive, others flirted, some were assholes. Miguel and Diego just showed up and did the fucking work. Ok, maybe they flirted a little bit too, but it wasn't #metoo at all, just, like, cool flirting, the type that you do with buddies you work with who you think are funny and cute but who you have no intention of sleeping with.

We packed up the catering van, which I drove, and all three of us squeezed into the cab like we were in a clown car. When we got to the venue, Miguel got the ovens set up and Diego started unloading the trays from the van with the entrees. I walked into the dining space to check out the layout and then walked back into the kitchen, dropping my knives on the counter.